


54. Dinner in Italy

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [54]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:31:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4566432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warnings for verbal humiliation, cbt and fisting</p>
    </blockquote>





	54. Dinner in Italy

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for verbal humiliation, cbt and fisting

It's been exactly the kind of day Stephen needed, after the morning in bed, the hot sex and then their bath, they'd headed out for a slow meander around, pausing to eat gelato and pastries before returning to the hotel to prepare for an in house dinner. Dinner in role, dinner where Stephen will kneel for his Sir. Perfect.

"I'm going to skip the tie," Antony says, leaving the top few buttons on his white shirt open as well. He smiles over his shoulder at Stephen. "As long as you don't mind," he adds. "It's pretty casual here."

"No that's fine," Stephen nods. Once more he's struggling to take his eyes off of his Sir. This time it's because of the smart clothing, it's not often he sees Antony out of jeans or combats ...so yeah, dress pants do _nice_ things to his ass.

Antony grins. "They sent up your outfit while you were in the bathroom," he says, handing over a small box that's been sitting on the dresser.

Stephen blinks. "Is that it?" he laughs, taking the box and lifting the lid. What he pulls out is leather - but there's not much of it. "Shorts? Will my junk even fit?" he glances up at Antony as he holds them against his hips. "Yours sure as hell wouldn't."

Antony laughs. "Just barely, and maybe not even, which is fine by me," he says, blue eyes dancing. "Especially since I don't have to dress you at all to eat here."

Throwing the shorts on the bed, Stephen tugs off the towel around his waist and roughly dries his balls, cock and ass, then he's picking up the scrap of leather again and tugging on the shorts, "Oh!" The zipper slides up easily enough, the leather is soft and warm, and it really does _just_ cover his package.

Antony whistles appreciatively, unable to stop grinning. God, his boy is hot. "Our dining companions are going to be so fucking jealous."

"You think so?" Stephen's comfortable naked, or half naked in his own underwear - this? This is different, he smooths his hands over the front of the shorts and cups himself.

"I know so," Antony says, moving behind Stephen, their eyes meeting in the mirror over the dresser as he puts his arms around him and covers Stephen's hands with his own, increasing the pressure against his cock and balls.

"I love my marks," Stephen smiles at Antony's reflection, even as he's leaning into that touch. The bites and bruises from this morning are colouring up beautifully. "They complement my collar so beautifully."

"Yes, they do," Antony agrees, kissing along Stephen's throat and shoulder, mouth moving over said collar, said marks, his body starting to react.

"I've never looked as owned as I do now, a permanent collar, my owner's, my _Master's_ marks on my skin," Stephen tilts his head allowing Antony all the access he wants. "And I've never been so fucking happy."

"Good. You deserve to be happy, to be owned," Antony says, lifting his head with one more kiss to the side of Stephen's throat. "And I'm the one who deserves you."

Stephen's smile is wide and full of utter joy. "Yes Sir," he murmurs, reaches back to pat Antony's hip. "May we go to dinner now?" he winks at their reflection.

Antony grins. "We'd better - before I completely derail our plans. Since there's no elevator, you can walk with me until we get to the dining room but then I want you to crawl. And you'll stay on your knees beside me for the entire meal unless I say differently."

"Yes Sir, thank you," Stephen nods. "And may I touch you, without asking?" He wants the clarity, he hates not being able to reach out, to touch his Sir when he needs it, when he _wants_ to. "Within reason of course."

"Definitely. That won't ever be off limits unless I give you specific orders otherwise," Antony says as he turns off the lights in the room.

And with that in mind, Stephen slips his hand into Antony's as he follows alongside him down to the dining room.

They encounter a fair number of people on the way down, Stephen receiving appreciative glances and Antony knowing nods, sheer jealousy evident on some of the faces. Antony keeps a tight hold on Stephen's hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles when someone less versed in the etiquette of the club veers into a downright leer. _Mine._ It's rude but not enough to be a direct challenge so Antony doesn't take it as such. "Starr," he tells the hostess when they reach the dining room. "For two."

Stephen is feeling all kinds of special. Cherished and treasured and basking in being 'shown off' by his Sir. He's amused at the less than polite staring from one man, and tickled at Antony's response. Only when they are being led to their table does he lean in and whisper. "I'm allowed to lay out anyone who touches me without permission, right?" his humour evident in his tone.

"Only if you get to them first," Antony murmurs.

"You know how hot it gets me when you're territorial like that?" Stephen gives Antony's hand a squeeze and flashes him a flirty smile.

Antony grins and squeezes back but inside he's wondering if Stephen would find it as hot if he actually saw him go off on someone. His boy hasn't yet been to witness to Antony's infamous temper and if Antony has his way, he never will. They're shown to a table overlooking the gardens and Antony takes a seat, hiking his trousers slightly so they don't crease.

Stephen waits until his Sir is seated, before sliding to his knees onto the cushion so thoughtfully provided. He straightens his back, sets his hands on his thighs and tilts his face to Antony in expectation. "You're gorgeous," he states with a happy smile.

Eyes crinkling at their corners, Antony grins. "So are you," he says, reaching out to touch the marks he left on Stephen this morning. "And these were so much fun."

"Yes they were," Stephen dips his head to watch his Sir's fingers play over his skin. "I love them, I love leaving my marks on you too," he tips his head back to look at Antony. "Things got pretty intense again huh?"

Antony nods. "You okay with that?"

"S'like I could drown in you." Lifting a shoulder in a half shrug Stephen, considers how to verbalise what he experienced. "Like I _am_ drowning in you."

"Well, I certainly don't mind," Antony says softly, which might be the understatement of the year. "Not unless it worries you. You know I'll always pull you back up, but right now we're on holiday. There's nowhere to be, nothing we _have_ to do."

"I know that," Stephen nods, reaching out to place his hand on Antony's knee. "I'm just not used to being so overwhelmed by my emotions - and when I'm under, I don't actually want to resist it - I want to give in and lose myself."

"So maybe you need to," Antony says. "You've been working really hard without a real break of any kind for a while."

"Do you think it's healthy?" He loves that Antony wants to indulge him but he's still got a nagging doubt that it's something weird, something needy in him.

"As long as it's a temporary thing," Antony says, laying his hand over Stephen's. "And coming back doesn't become an issue. Yeah, I do. I don't think there's anything wrong with it at all."

"Do...what about you? Do you get to a place you don't want to pull back from?" Stephen glances up at the server that's approaching, and he pulls away his hand and corrects his posture.

Antony takes the time while he's ordering a bottle of wine and a simple appetizer to think about the question. Deciding that his boy deserves honesty in all things. Or at least as close to it as possible. "Not with us, but I have to be careful in my work," he admits. "There's a part of me that revels in the darker aspects and it takes a lot of control sometimes to pull back."

Stephen's frown wrinkles a little - but it's in thought nothing more. _Darker aspects..._ He looks back up - and he finds himself wondering something outlandish - something that _should_ scare him. _Have you killed someone? Do you do that?_

Antony notices the wrinkle, watches the thoughts pass across Stephen's face, his boy wondering... just how much darker. Fuck. "Do you want me to choose something lighter for you?" he asks, hoping the change in topics is smooth enough. "Or is it anything goes tonight?"

He knows this man well enough by now, probably better than anyone else - even Marcus - so Stephen know when he's being redirected, which simply makes him wonder even more.

"No, it's fine, whatever you see fit Sir." He smiles then, because he can, and because he finds he wants to reassure his Sir and lover, Stephen shuffles nearer and sets his chin on his Sir's knee.

Antony slides his fingers into Stephen's hair, threading them through it while he takes a moment to select their meal, the server returning with their wine which he tastes and pronounces 'molto bene'. "Would you like some?" he asks, offering Stephen the wineglass.

"Thank you," Stephen takes the glass, and takes a mouthful before handing it back. "Hmmm," he hums his approval as the complex flavours of the wine blossom over his tongue.

"Good, isn't it?" Antony says, taking another sip. "There are some really good wines from elsewhere but I still think France and Italy make the best wines overall."

"If you say so." Stephen's grin is impish - he has friends who would disagree, but right now he's content to be in the moment with his Sir. "May we try some of the local liqueurs after dinner?" he asks, knowing very well that often the Italians serve them with dessert.

Antony nods. "Of course. Have you tried grappa or fernet?"

"Yeah, I've had Grappa, and Strega, and Frangelico," Stephen nods. "The Strega was poured over a cake..."

"Mm. Torta caprese uses it," Antony says, wondering if they make it here and happy to see their server arrive with their appetizers: grilled tiger shrimps in a wine sauce with fresh lemon and a platter of proscuitto, parmigiano and Sicilian olives. He places the order for their mains and picks up a tiger shrimp, offering it to Stephen.

They've only done this a handful of times, but Stephen finds hand feeding a beautiful counterpoint to the often harsh scenes they indulge in. He is Sir's toy, an ornament to be admired, an attentive pet. His Sir is full of such contrasts, and he's certain it is this that has him so very taken by the complicated man that has claimed him. He opens his mouth and takes the bite gently, inclining his head in thanks as he starts to chew.

"If I weren't so hungry," Antony says, taking a shrimp for himself. "I could probably just spend the whole meal watching you eat."

Stephen waits until he's swallowed before replying. "Watching me eat? Why?" He grins, licking over his bottom lip - the shrimp was gorgeous.

"Because you're beautiful and you're mine and you look sexy as hell on your knees taking food from me," Antony responds, grinning back, offering Stephen a rolled piece of proscuitto.

Stephen takes the ham, once more he does so gently, eyes never leaving Antony's face. When his Sir first started to call him 'beautiful' it sat wrong, it still does more often than not - but not today, today, right now, Stephen hears it, and he _feels_ it.

With every brush of Stephen's mouth, Antony's cock fills a fraction more, the thought that he could have his boy right here, in front of everyone if he wants, a heady one. He's never been much for sex with audience, never been much of an exhibitionist, but Stephen makes him want to show off, show his boy, his lover, his _possession_ off. He pops a piece of proscuitto into his mouth, followed by an olive, offering Stephen one as well. "Do you think you'll feel up to doing some more serious sightseeing tomorrow or do you want to wait and see how you feel in the morning?"

"Yeah I'll be fine, be great to get out and really stretch my legs again," Stephen nods, he feels a hell of a lot more centred now than he did just a day ago - his Sir's attention, his care, has seen to that. "I promise to keep my hands and mouth to myself," he teases.

Antony grins at that. "We can always call it a day or come back for a bit if you get feeling like it's too much," he says. "I've seen all this before so I'm good. It's just sharing it with you."

"No, a full day - fresh air, some serious tourist stuff, I'd like that," Stephen's quite determined now to get their break back on track.

"Me too." Antony's grin widens. "Okay. Coliseum, Forum, Palatine Hill. If we're not exhausted by the end of that, we'll head over to Vatican City."

"Yes Sir!" And Stephen's happiness is there to see, for anyone who cares to look at him. He radiates his contentment.

Antony cups Stephen's cheek, just drinking in the look on his boy's face. "I love you so much," he says softly before reaching for more food for Stephen - another shrimp this time.

That touch sets Stephen's pulse racing afresh and he tilts his cheek into Antony's palm. Then he's all smiles again. "I think the shrimp are my favourite."

"They're good, aren't they?" Antony snags another for himself before returning to feeding Stephen, content to wait for their mains. "It always amazes me how Citadel finds such excellent staff everywhere."

"High standards, high expectations and good money I should think," Stephen lifts his shoulders. "I can't imagine anyone with a less than perfect customer service skills lasts long, Louis simply wouldn't allow it would he?"

"No, and he does oversee everything," Antony says. "His dad used to be involved in a lot more of the day-to-day operations but now he's retired, aside from sitting on the board."

"I fucking love this place," Stephen glances around and for the first time he actually takes in the other diners, the details of the dining room, the décor. "And everything I've ever experienced, and everything it's given me."

"Well, I'm pretty damn happy your people insisted you join," Antony says, touching Stephen's collar, his fingers stroking over the links, over the marks he left this morning.

"Yeah, well they may regret that at some point," Stephen smirks, turning his head to kiss the inside of Antony's wrist.

Antony laughs. "True, but maybe it won't matter by then. Look at Ian and Joe. They seem to be doing pretty well and I'm assuming things can only get better."

"Joe has a much higher profile than I do, that protects him and Ian a little more than it would me," Stephen offers, "But I'd like to think it's a when, not an if and for now...I can live with that. "

"Me too," Antony says, even though he knows Stephen knows that, that there's no pressure from his end. "There's the rest of our food," he adds, sitting up a little straighter as their server delivers the veal scallopine with fresh lemon and gnocchi in a sage and brown butter sauce to their table.

It takes twice as long to eat with Antony having to feed him each and every mouthful, but that simply means they get to savour the food even more, and revel in the intimacy of their dynamic. Once or twice Stephen captures movement from the corner of his eye, and when he turns it's to find himself being watched quite intently by another diner. Each time however he returns his focus to his Sir and his food.

"How are the shorts?" Antony asks, taking a break from feeding Stephen to feed himself, something he has to keep reminding himself to do, so enchanted is he with his boy.

"Snug." His grin is as impish as his reply. Stephen reaches out to rest his hand on his Sir's thigh, content to let that be their contact for now. "They leave little to the imagination, though I assume that was the point?"

"A huge part of it," Antony confirms with a grin.

"Pervert," Stephen accuses softly, he smiles up again then movement on the periphery of his vision makes him turn once more - and there it is again; that uncomfortable feeling of being watched.

"They're just admiring you. Sometimes some clothes are more enticing than none," Antony says, nodding towards the room in general, a naked boy or girl on their knees or dominant's lap here and there.

"If you say so," Stephen shuffles a little, twisting his body so the same man is out of his field of vision entirely and tilts his head to study his Sir instead. "I like the way you look at me, even when you have nasty wicked things on your mind."

"Which is an awful lot of the time," Antony says, eyes crinkling for a moment before he levels his own gaze at the man watching Stephen, his hand back on his boy's collar.

"It's the guy in the grey shirt," Stephen murmurs, "Isn't it?" He can see how Antony's expression has changed, that possessive gesture. He dips his head. "I feel naked, and not in a good way," he finally admits.

"Yeah. I'll be right back," Antony says softly, moving his chair so he can get out around Stephen. "You stay put."

Stephen's torn, part of him wants to turn and watch, but the submissive in him has him sitting still, posture perfect, head bowed. He closes his eyes and tries to centre himself for when his Sir returns to his side.

The guy's on his own and looks almost hopeful when Antony approaches. Like he thinks he's about to be invited to join them. "Excuse me," Antony says, keeping his voice low but firm, "but you're making my boy uncomfortable with the way you're staring at him and you should know better." Shaking his head as the guy starts to make excuses. "Trust me. You really don't want to do this," he continues. "Either move to another table, where we can't see you, or choose somewhere else to eat." And for a moment he thinks the guy's going to do something stupid but instead, after staring at Antony for a moment, he apologizes and motions to the hostess, who happily moves him to a table around the corner. _Good man._

Opening his eyes, Stephen looks up when Antony steps back around him to retake his seat. With his Sir back in his line of sight, within his sphere, Stephen finds himself relaxing, he reaches out, a quick touch to his Sir's calf and then he resumes his position. _Thank you_.

"Better?" Antony asks, nodding as their server refills his wineglass.

Stephen takes the opportunity to glance back to where the man had been sitting. The table is vacant. "Yes, thank you." He watches his Sir take a drink. "Was I being over sensitive?"

"No, he was out of line," Antony says. "It's one thing to notice and appreciate. It's another to sit there and stare."

"I love you, you are every kind of amazing, you know that?" Stephen scoots closer, and he sets his chin on his Sir's knee. The look he gives his Sir and lover is playful and flirty.

"I'm glad you feel that way." Antony's always been good at work. Always the best at what he does. But relationships? He hasn't made time for those. Hadn't found the time until he met Stephen, so knowing he's stepping right, that his lover, his boy, feels he's good at this? It's important. He touches Stephen's cheek. "You keep looking at me like that and _you're_ going to be dessert."

An impish quirk of his brow and Stephen winks. "For once, can't say as I'd mind."

"Down here?" Antony asks.

That makes Stephen pause, he makes as if to turn and check over his shoulder, but of course that guy is gone, Antony wouldn't let him back in his eye sight. Even so... "I'd rather not, but I'll do whatever you request of me Sir."

"Maybe when we're back home," Antony says, the thought of having Stephen concerned about their surroundings, those watching them, an unappealing one. "And we can always have dessert sent up later."

"Thank you," Stephen presses a kiss to Antony's knee. Thankful not just for the consideration with regards to public playing, but also the offer of dessert. "Today was everything I needed to get my head back on straight," he adds. "You know what I need, even if I don't."

Antony smiles. "It's a lot to deal with. You've been working hard, the long flight, the two of us in public when we're already jet lagged. It was pretty easy to figure out you just needed some serious down-time."

"I like your idea of down time," Stephen's not letting up on the flirting, not at all.

"Speaking of which," Antony says, caressing the back of Stephen's neck. So fucking in love with his boy, it almost beggars belief. "If we're going out tomorrow, how hard do you want to go tonight? Humiliation-wise, I mean."

"As hard as you'd like, I'm good," Stephen all but purrs his reply, his Sir's hand warm and so welcome on his skin. "Just be sure to pull me back before I sleep."

"Will do," Antony promises. "Have you had enough to eat?"

"Yes thank you," Stephen's satisfied, the food had been beautiful, and he's sure if he really wanted dessert later, he'd only have to ask.

"Still interested in an after-dinner liqueur?" Antony asks, nodding at their server as she catches his eye.

"No Sir," Stephen follows Antony's line of sight. "At least not right now."

"Then we'll go," Antony says, telling their server, "That'll be all for now, thanks," a generous tip pressed into her hand as he stands. "We'll have dessert and drinks brought up later."

She smiles and wishes them a good evening, taking a moment to watch Mr. Starr and his boy, who she recognizes as Oliver Queen, make their way back to the front of the restaurant. Her own fantasies wouldn't involve the man submitting but each to their own and just seeing him like this will fuel her dreams for weeks.

When they reach their room Stephen is once more focused on nothing else but his Sir. His movements, his expression, the scent of him, how his clothes shift over that powerful body. He's almost vibrating with it.

Locking the door behind them, Antony smiles at Stephen. "Brace yourself against the end of the bed," he orders, watching his boy move and those black leather shorts move with him.

Dropping to his knees, Stephen slinks across the room, making sure his Sir gets a good look at his leather clad ass. When he reaches the bed he does as he's asked, and then, throws his Sir a look over his shoulder. A sweet mix of want and lust.

"These are definitely coming home with us," Antony says, moving behind Stephen, his hands run over his boy's ass, thumbs teasing beneath the hem of the shorts.

"You like them Sir?" Stephen's voice is warm, teasing. "You like them on this boy's ass?"

"Like would be a definite understatement," Antony murmurs, getting his hands on Stephen as much as he can through the leg holes.

"Boy could wear more leather, leather chaps...a harness, boy could be a leather pig for his Sir," Stephen's voice is throaty and full of temptation.

Fuck. "I'll have to take you shopping when we get home," Antony says, liking that idea very much. "Dress you up but make sure your cunt's on show." One finger rubbing at Stephen's hole.

"Hmm," Stephen hums at that caress, "On show, easy access, all red and fucked and swollen from being used," he supplies the words, enjoying this play, the visual pictures he's creating for them both to get off on.

"Come dripping from it," Antony says, pushing that same finger in to the knuckle. "Making a fucking mess everywhere you crawled. You'd have to clean it up, boy. Show everyone what a nasty dirty little pig you are."

"Mm, yes, Sir's cum...the best taste...I love it in me, on my skin... I love stinking of my Sir's sex," Stephen rocks greedily down onto that finger. "Love being your fuck pig."

"Love being bred, being fucked raw, your cunt wrecked," Antony continues, fucking his finger deeper, the two of them feeding the vision, the fantasy, knowing it'll only be better when made real.

"Fucked to a rose, all slicked up with Sir's cum," Stephen's getting all breathy now. "So dirty, so used, such a nasty boy for you." Fingers press into the bedlinen and Stephen's eyes slip shut as his skin flushes up.

"One of these days, I'm going to fist your rose, boy," Antony promises, working two fingers then three into Stephen, his hand held tight by the leather. "I'm going to fist it and film it and then fuck you again while you watch."

"Yes, fuck yes please..." Stephen finds that so freaking hot, he feels his cock kick up and shot a spurt of precum. "Pleasepleaseplease.."

"See?" Antony murmurs, fucking his fingers in deeper. "I knew you were a slut for that kind of shit. That you need - fucking _crave_ having your cunt wrecked, fucked and fisted until it's so fucking open it looks like it won't ever come back."

"Not....no...slut for that...slut for...for you...Sir...my Sir..." Stephen's words are slurring as he slips off into his head space - a space where he allows himself to be free - to give himself up to his Sir and all his Sir wants of him.

"Because I _own_ you," Antony says, three fingers becoming four, the leather giving at his insistence, much like Stephen's body. "You're mine. Your cock, your cunt, every fucking inch of you..."

"Mmm, yes...my head n my heart..." Stephen pants, pushing back still. "All...use boy....please break him down tonight...break him into nothing..."

Fuck. Antony's cock jerks roughly and he pulls his fingers free, wiping them on the bedcovers. "Don't move," he orders, quickly undressing, his clothes put aside.

As if Stephen could, as if he could move an inch without a direct order. He stays put, his breathing deep, his skin flushed and his cock painfully hard and trapped in the tight leather of the shorts.

Antony grabs a single item from the cabinets along with a jar of thicker lube and returns to his boy, his heart beating faster, his cock standing full and thick and wet at its tip. He unzips the shorts and pushes them down, working them free from Stephen's feet. Fastens the leather cock ring and sheath with its dozens of rows of tiny spikes around his boy's cock.

He feels it instantly, when the leather sheath is wrapped around his cock, and then Sir tightens it so the spikes bite. "Oh...oh fuck..." his fingers twist up the bed clothes and Stephen knows his Sir really is going to push him, _break_ him, just like he asked for.

His hand dipped in the lube and Antony pushes two fingers back inside his boy, working them roughly into him. "Nothing but a fuck pig for me..."

"Yes!" Stephen's body opens up easily, he wants this, he wants whatever Antony will give him. His cock kicks up in the sheath and it makes him hiss out a noise of pain.

"Nothing but a hole, a fucking toy to be used and abused..." Antony growls softly, giving Stephen three fingers and then four when his body responds so eagerly.

Stephen's head is just white noise now... white noise and his Sir's voice. His body reacts instinctively to what's being done to it, used to the abuse Antony heaps on it now. Stephen's cock grows harder, and consequently his pain increases as the spikes bite down harder.

Antony continues his relentless assault on his boy's body but every fibre of his being is attuned to any signs of distress. He works his hand deeper, folding his thumb in against his palm, widening the stretch with every inward movement, his words murmured soft and low and absolutely filthy. Cunt. Pig. Fuck toy.

On some level Stephen knows Sir's hand is going inside him, he knows it and he craves it. But this time it's different, because he can't simply sink into the experience, not when his dick is being tortured by what feels like a thousand pin pricks, the pain keeps him more present and it has him whimpering softly into the bed where he's pressed his face.

The widest part of his hand opening Stephen up and Antony gives one more push, groaning roughly as that ring of muscle finally gives, his hand sliding in to the wrist.

The whimpering climbs to cries of pain as Stephen's ass opens up, he fists the bed clothing, pulling it all down to bunch up around him as he lifts his head and keens. His cock feels like it's being scratched raw, as it throbs and pulses in the leather.

"Look at you. Look at that wide open cunt," Antony murmurs, letting his fingers form a fist, his hand moved slowly back and forth.

"Oh...Sir...it hurts...it hurts..." Stephen pleads, torn between the intense sensation of Sir's hand rubbing over his prostate and the bite of the pins on his poor cock. "It hurts and it won't go down..."

"I know," Antony says, pulling his fist back, intensifying the stretch, Stephen's hole gaping, "but you're a good boy, giving me your pain..." His fist opened gently, the muscle slowly giving way.

The muscles all across Stephen's arms are bunched up tight, his arms bulge as he struggles to take what's being asked of him, sweat beads and trickles along his spine, over his brow as he grimaces with each wave of sensation so intense he's sure he can't take it. "Oh fuck....Sir please...please no..."

"You can take it, boy," Antony tells him, fitting his cock to his fist, the hard flesh pushed into his grip and then into Stephen.

He _can_ take it, simply because his Sir is telling him he can - he will. Panting hard, Stephen tries to focus on the intense pressure in and around his ass, rather than the wicked nasty pain on his highly sensitive cock. He feels his Sir shift up closer his presence for once not soothing, this time it merely heightens Stephen's awareness of the stress being placed on his ass.

"Oh, fuck," Antony breathes, hips rocking as he fucks his fist inside Stephen. "That's it... so fucking filthy..." His balls already tightening, drawing up, his arousal coiling tighter and tighter.

Stephen can't put two and two together, he's not sure what his Sir is doing, he can't think, he can do nothing but react instinctively to each stimuli. He very literally is - a thing for his Sir's pleasure. Sweaty, panting, desperate he whines out soft noises of pain and bliss.

A half dozen more thrusts and Antony loses it, going over with a rough shout, the sinfully tight clench of his boy's body too much to resist.

Stephen might not know what his Sir is actually doing, but he sure as hell knows those noises, he knows his Sir has cum, in him, on him, he's not sure, but Sir's cum, and he only has to hold on a few minutes more.

"One more thing for me, pig," Antony says, gently easing out, his greased hand reaching around to unfasten and drop the sheath from Stephen's cock, fingers quickly replacing it.

Stephen's erection is not as rigid as it might be, both the pain from the pins and the intense ass play had softened it a little, but when his Sir's fingers wrap around him it kicks up in an instant and the residual pain from a thousand tiny pin pricks light up once more. He sucks in a harsh breath and his shoulders bunch up in tension. "Nononono...." he pleads, "Please no..."

"Don't you tell me no, boy," Antony growls softly, stroking mercilessly. "You're gonna come for me or we're gonna be at this all night."

Having started this by asking his Sir to 'break' him, Stephen finds himself experiencing a moment of panic...that he can't do what's being asked, _demanded_ of him. That he'll lose himself and that Sir will not be able to pull him back - will not be able to piece him together again. That panic simply heightens his pain and moments later his face is as wet with tears as it is sweat. "No...please....please boy begs...please....red....stop Sir!" And even as the words and pleading spill from his mouth, Stephen knows his Sir will not stop - not until he's gotten what he wants from his boy.

"Not until you come for me, boy," Antony says, shaking his head, pressing closer, his still-hard cock between Stephen's cheeks as he strokes. "So do it, pig, fucking come for me," he orders, sinking his teeth into Stephen's shoulder.

That added layer of pain pushes Stephen over the edge. His brain shuts down and he whimpers pitifully as his Sir works him to the brink and then over it, his abused cock spilling strings of slick cum over Antony's insistent, wicked fingers.

"Good boy," Antony praises, lifting his head, working Stephen through the last of the aftershocks before he finally releases him. "You're so fucking good for me," he murmurs. "Let's get you into bed," helping Stephen around the side of the bed and up onto it, a package of wet wipes grabbed and used to quickly clean his hand and arm and between Stephen's cheeks before he curls up with him, around him, water from the mini-fridge beside the bed at hand. "I love you so much," he whispers, holding Stephen tight.

All Stephen is conscious of is that the pain has stopped, the pressure in his ass has stopped, and that Sir is holding him. The smell of his lover is comforting, the heat and strength of his arms soothing. He aches, he's trembling hard, and he's still tearful, but now he can let himself be - and know his Sir will take care of him until he's back from the deep and all consuming head space he finds himself in.

Antony keeps Stephen close, murmuring words of love and praise as he holds him. He knows Stephen wanted him to bring him back before they went to sleep for the night but he doesn't want it to be too jarring a transition.

As he is lulled into a near doze, a place where his body twitches as it releases the last vestiges of tension, Stephen finds himself slowly coming back to himself. He starts to fidget and make soft noises as he shifts against his Sir.

"Hey," Antony murmurs, smiling, almost asleep himself when Stephen starts to move. "You okay?"

"Hmmm, need a drink," Stephen's mouth feels all tacky and dry. "And the bathroom," he adds as his body lets it be known he needs the toilet right now! He pushes his way out of Antony's arms. "Gotta go," he slurs, scrabbling out of bed and making his way to the en-suite on very wobbly legs.

Antony follows closely behind, lingering outside the door. "You okay?" he asks again, concerned, making sure Stephen's not too wobbly to be on his feet, period.

Perched on the toilet Stephen scrubs his face and calls back a gruff, "Yeah, I'm sat down...be out when I've cleaned up," He finds it odd, given what he allows Antony to do to him, that he's quite so private when it comes to his bodily functions, especially right after a scene like that.

"Okay. I've got water out here for you. Want me to call down for anything?"

A slow smile then Stephen nods. "Yeah, dessert, lots of it," he calls back, "And two spoons."

"Coming right up," Antony says, dialing down with an order for some tiramisu and the cake with liqueur that Stephen wanted to try as well as some decaf coffee. They can try the other liqueurs another night. That done, he straightens out the bed sheets and covers before getting back into bed to wait for his boy.

Stephen takes the time for a very quick shower, just enough to wash off the lube and cum and other body fluids from his skin, then he's padding back into the bedroom, towel in hand, on legs that finally feel a whole heap steadier. "S'free," he nods toward the bathroom.

Antony disappears just long enough to quickly take a piss and wash up. He comes out as there's the knock at the door and he heads for it, stark naked, not bothering with the robe his boy would tease him about. "Thanks," he says, letting the guy wheel the cart into the room, signing for the bill and adding a generous tip before seeing him back out. "That's decaf," he tells Stephen, nodding towards the coffee, which smells fucking fantastic.

Stephen raises a brow, "Decaf? You think that'll mitigate the sugar rush I'm about to have?" Stephen's lifting lids on dishes and making happy noises. "Oh fuck yes!"

Antony laughs. "I was trying to make sure you get some sleep," he says with a grin. "That's that torta caprese - chocolate and almond soaked in strega. And there's tiramisu of course, and I see they sent up some biscotti and ooh, panaforte. Fuck. I didn't order that," he confesses but damn right he'll eat it. "Mm. Bed or couch?"

"Bed, fuck the crumbs," Stephen's casting his eye over all the desserts. "I'm going to have some of everything," he announces, before deciding to start on the tiramisu. "Hmm," he hums happily as he settles himself back into bed with a bowl clutched in one hand.

Antony helps himself to a couple of pieces of panaforte and a cup of decaf and settles in beside Stephen. "Did I ever ask you if diabetes runs in your family?" he teases, eyeing his boy with his dessert.

"Shut up," Stephen gives Antony a look over his loaded spoon, "I'm enjoying this," he shoves the tiramisu in his mouth and smiles. "S'my reward for being good," he says around his mouthful.

"Mm, and you were good," Antony agrees, eyes crinkling at their corners. "That was incredible."

"Yeah? Well I'm not so sure my dick still loves you," Stephen lifts his bowl to peer down at his penis. "It's sore."

"I'll bet," Antony agrees, unable to stop grinning. "I'd offer you my mouth to make it better but I bet that wouldn't help."

"No, but more sugar will." Stephen offers his Sir his now empty bowl with a hopeful look. "Please?"

Antony's laughing as he takes Stephen's bowl. "I'm offended, I'll have you know," he tells him, getting off the bed and going to the cart. "Choosing dessert over your sir..." He puts a thin slice of the torta in the bowl, along with a piece of panaforte and a chocolate biscotti.

"My Sir is a sadistic fuck, and right now, all boy is useful for is stuffing his face," Stephen beams from the bed. "I don't even want to think about getting hard thank you very much."

Antony climbs back onto the bed and hands over the bowl, a kiss dropped on Stephen's mouth before he releases his hold on it. "It'll feel better tomorrow," he promises.

"Hmm, well if it's not I'll need more cake," Stephen's attention is back on his bowl and the oh-so-fucking-good desserts there. "Lots of cake, and then when my ass is all fat we can work it all off when we get home."

"You'll be surprised how much of it you'll work off here, just from walking," Antony says, popping a piece of panaforte into his mouth with a low groan. "So good," he mumbles.

"You're underestimating how much I'm intending to eat," Stephen waves his spoon at his Sir. "Seriously, this is heaven. You, kink, sugar....yeah, I'm very happy bunny."

"Glad to hear it," Antony murmurs, grinning, taking a sip of his coffee. "Have you always had a sweet tooth?"

"Yeah, did as a kid, and I never grew out of it," Stephen admits. "I just learnt I had to control it a little when I got all these roles where my clothing was optional," he grins. "I know I'm lucky, I should have a butt the size of a house."

Antony grins. "You must have an amazing metabolism," he observes. "Aside from all the hard work you put in." He takes another sip of his coffee. "What about your parents? Do they like the sweet stuff?"

"Not really, Mom likes chocolate but Dad has a thing for wine, he's not a snob about it, but he does like a nice bottle to drink," Stephen eyes up the trolley and wonders if he could squeeze in any more - and decides against it. Sighing he crawls over and sets his bowl down.

"I'll have to remember that for when we visit them," Antony says, watching Stephen reluctantly decide he's had enough. "There'll be more tomorrow," he assures him with a smile.

Stephen glances up and then retreats back to his warm spot. "Of what? Sex, food and sugar?" he winks at his Sir, his lover. "I was kind of banking on it."


End file.
